Ignition
by Stabson
Summary: A fire is about to start. (Post-Burned)
1. Flicker

A/N: Well, hey there. I don't know what this is or why this is, but it just kind of came out of me like word vomit and I actually kind of sort of maybe like it. It's post-Burned, and everybody who writes E/O clearly has to write post-Burned.

This is going to be a multi-chapter affair, hang in for the ride if you like. Not ridiculously long, maybe a few chapters. It depends on where my muse takes me. I have much of Chapter Two written already.

For those Revival fans out there, no I haven't abandoned. I'm just going through a block right now.

* * *

"I could go for a bite, who's buying?"

Olivia is instantly relieved. Coming over here, she wasn't at all sure what to expect- anger, maybe. Or him to ignore her text and leave her sitting on the stoop, or text her back with a message to go the hell back home. Hell, for all she knew, he could have been sleeping. It _is_ closing in on five o'clock in the morning, and just because she's suffering from this damn insomnia, doesn't mean her partner is sharing the misery.

But, of course, he is. Just like he'd been right all along about this fucked up case. Valerie was never raped. Whether it was his intuition like he tries to claim or his bias thanks to his home life (which she'd so gracefully threw in his face a couple of days ago), he'd been right.

"Well, you are going through a divorce and you do have four children, so I guess you are," she finds herself saying with a grin.

He chuckles. "That's what I thought."

But neither of them move off of the stoop. Maybe they're both too tired to move or maybe they'd rather sit in this companionable silence that they've developed in these last few moments (Lord knows it's been a while since they've been sync with anything), but he keeps sipping on his coffee and she sips at her tea. It's a more than welcome change from the way things have been for months. _How did their relationship get so complicated,_ she asks herself wistfully. It used to be as easy as breathing. She used to know what he was thinking, what he was planning, how he was going to react and why. Now, one case and they're at each other's throats. She's lucky if she even gets a clue what's going through that hard head of his.

She wants to blame all of it on the divorce- not just his behavior during this case, but the entire state of their partnership. He's going through a stressful time, his trigger finger is even quicker than it used to be, and the line he walks is precarious. But it's not true. He's been dealing with this for going on two years and they've never been more out of sync, more strained than they have been lately.

"Left my wallet upstairs," Elliot says, drawing her from her thoughts. "Why don't you come up?"

He doesn't wait for her answer. He's already standing and digging his hand into the pocket of his gray hoodie for his keys. They jingle in the quiet of the early morning and he slides them into the lock.

Olivia banishes her thoughts to the back of her mind as they climb the four flights of stairs up to his apartment. Whatever has been going on lately, tonight is different. She's going to enjoy the rare moment she has to simply be his friend. She's missed that.

Inside his apartment, all the lights are off save for the lamp on the end table in the corner of the room. Olivia's eyes roam from the couch to the wall furthest from the door, which still has boxes, some opened and some still taped shut tight, stacked against it.

"I see you're really embracing the move," she calls out as Elliot slips through the bedroom door. It's dark, and she briefly wonders if she'd woke him with her message.

 _"Couldn't sleep."_

 _"Me neither."_

"With our hours, you tell me when you'd have time to empty twenty boxes," Elliot fires back. Olivia crosses the room and leans against the frame of the bedroom door, watching him pluck his frayed wallet up off of the meticulously organized dresser. There are frames holding photos of his children leaning against the wall, bills and coins stacked neatly next to an NYPD coffee mug he'd received years ago and his badge and police ID sit in the same neat little tin as the pins he occasionally wears on the lapels of his suits- two from the Marine Corps, two American flags and another from the NYPD that she rarely sees him wear.

She knows why he hasn't unpacked anything but a few favorite photographs and the things he wears or uses nearly every day. It's the same reason he hasn't taken off the gold band around his ring finger yet even though she knows she signed the divorce papers.

"Ready to go?" he asks quietly.

No. Suddenly, standing up here, she's far more inclined to stretch out on his couch in the dimly lit living room than walk down those four flights of stairs and pay for food she's sure both of them will merely pick at. So she shakes her head.

Elliot accepts her answer without a word and drops his wallet back down on top of the bureau, toes off the boots he wears, unzips his sweatshirt and hangs it on the hook on the back of the door.

"What are you doing?" she asks, afraid for a moment that he'll crawl back into bed and tell her to get lost. Truth is, she's not ready to leave. They've finally reached a state of peace and she's not willing to give that up quite yet.

"I can't sleep. You can't sleep. C'mon, Dickie brought over a set of movies last weekend and forget them. Maybe we can find a good one."

She should feel guilty for wanting to do exactly what he's suggesting, it's their day off and he probably has plans with his kids later on, but she doesn't. Neither of them can sleep, so what's the harm in remaining in each other's company? His presence is finally seeming to soothe her after all these months of tension. Maybe it's because of the early morning, maybe it's because he's just too tired to push her away, but he's open to her and she's not willing to part with that just yet.

She follows him out to the living room and watches him plop down onto the couch. "Unless you want to go home," he says, looking up at her.

Of course she doesn't. So she finds herself stretching out next to him, her thigh dangerously close to brushing against his and her head resting inches from his shoulder. She's too tired to care. He's warm and she's not moving from her spot.

Elliot turns on the television set, finds a movie and it plays softly through the speakers. His body is lax next to hers, and she thinks that he's probably just as tired as she is.

The room is dark. The couch is comfortable, his presence next to her is comforting. Suddenly, laying in bed staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep seems like a far way off because her eyelids are steadily growing heavier and heavier. Elliot's even breathing next to her isn't helping, either. Her eyelids finally surrender and slide shut. In and out… in and out… in and out… he breathes. Is he asleep next to her? In and out… in… and out… in…

—-

Olivia vaguely aware that her body is moving. Her legs, which had once been curled lightly under her, are stretched out on the cushions beneath her- where is she again? Her eyes crack open and Elliot's face immediately greets her. He's laying her flat gently on his couch, setting a pillow behind her head.

"El?" she mumbles.

"Shh." He takes the light blanket from the back of the couch and spreads it over her body before leaning close. "Go back to sleep," he whispers against her skin. His breath tickles her skin and she nearly shudders… he's so close. And he's not moving back.

Her arm slips around his neck, holding him in place. Well, either holding him in place or pulling him closer, because suddenly he's moving forward slowly. Her heart's pounding in her chest, but she can't bring herself to pull away. The centimeters turn into millimeters. Millimeters turn into a single sliver of nearly undefinable space as their lips nearly brush together- but he's not closing that tiny gap. He's holding his position, still as a statue and she knows exactly what he wants, the bastard. He wants her to be the one to close the remaining distance. And before she can convince herself that it's not a good idea, not a good idea at all, she presses her lips against his.

It's gentle at first, almost tentative as they explore each other, but before she knows it, she's sitting up with her legs spread wide open as he kneels in between them, working her mouth like a piece of candy. His hand is pressed firmly on her lower back, holding her body against his as he nips at her bottom lip. Her legs wrap around his waist as she becomes a more active participant in the kiss, slipping her tongue along his dry, chapped lip. He groans into her mouth and it sends a pang right to her core. She has absolutely no idea how they went from sleeping against each other to making out like teenagers in less than five minutes, nor does she care at the moment because his body is hot and hard against hers and it's sending pangs of arousal straight through her.

The kiss is exactly like the man she shares it with- loud, passionate and intense. Three of the qualities that make him infuriating to work with, but in this case, the three qualities that make her want to yank his waist closer to her with her legs and deepen the kiss. She doesn't have to, though, because the moment he shifts his body, there's hardness pressing against the sensitive spot between her legs. Olivia barely recognizes the tiny moan that escapes from her mouth and into his.

Even through their kiss, she feels the smirk on his face. _She'll show him._ Both of Olivia's hands land on his ass, pulling him as close as she can and rolling her hips against his, slowly and seductively. His smirk quickly fades as he tears his mouth away from hers.

"You don' know what you're doin'," he mumbles, the accent she almost never hears from him sinking deeply into his words along with his arousal.

She's turning him on just as much as he's turned her on, that's what she's doing. Her lips trail from the tip of his chin up his jawline. She sucks the lobe of his ear into her mouth and scrapes her teeth along it, and his hips immediately buck into hers as he draws in a harsh breath. A smirk forms on her face. _Looks like she found a sensitive spot._

The second time she scrapes her teeth along it, his arms yank her against him and he hauls her up against his chest. Her legs tighten around his waist as he carries her blindly in the direction of the bedroom. She doesn't make it easy for him. Her lips leave his ear and she kisses him again, hard.

Her back bumps lightly against the wall next to the door. He gets distracted, pressing her up against the wall and lets his hands roam from her waist down to her ass, then over her jean-clad thighs. She needs his hands on her bare skin; this teasing is too much. She needs to get him horizontal and between her legs before she can get the chance to think this through and change her mind, because she knows that if they wait too long that's exactly what's going to happen. She's feeling reckless. Doesn't care about the tension anymore, doesn't care about the work relationship, she just needs to feel his dick sliding up into her because the fantasy just isn't enough anymore.

"Elliot," she mumbles hotly against his lips. _"Bedroom."_

"Mm," he answers, hands making their way back up her legs and under her sweatshirt. He peels her tank top from her hot skin and splays his fingers out on her sides, slowly exploring the skin that is now accessible to him. _Bastard,_ she thinks, but she can't focus anymore because his hands on her just feels too damn good.

Finally, with his hands locked on the skin of the small of her back, he pulls her back from the wall and nearly trips over the threshold into his bedroom. The darkness instantly envelops them. Elliot drops her onto the bed, and she pulls him along with her. He lands on top of her with a grunt. She's already pulling at the bottom of his shirt.

In mere seconds, they're both completely naked. Their bodies scrape up against each other, sending goosebumps over her skin and she's aching so bad to get him inside of her that there's nearly tears in her eyes. Her swipes up and down his hard-on as her legs pull him against her, but he grabs both of her wrists and holds them onto the mattress as he lines himself up with her.

"You sure?" he mumbles against her lips, holding himself rigid above her as he waits for that one last confirmation.

"Elliot," she says, bucking her hips against him, getting so close to him that his tip brushes along her sensitive entrance. "Just _fuck_ me."

So he does. He's gentle as he enters her, an inch at a time, slowly letting her body adjust around his length, but as soon as his hips connect with hers, he leans down close, wraps his arm around the small of her back to get a better angle as he pulls almost all the way out, and drives back in. Their skin slapping together is almost as loud as the moan that is ripped from her lips, _fuck that feels so good._ And he slams into her over and over, holding her body tight to his as her heels dig into the backs of his thighs, encouraging him to keep going, _harder, oh God, harder._ Her nails dig into his shoulder blades as she meets him thrust for vigorous thrust, and she doesn't care about anything except that moment when the very tip of him drives into the deepest part of her. He's fast, he's hard, sweat pools on his forehead and the small of his back as his muscles strain over her body.

At one point, she leans up to suck on a piece of his neck that's been teasing her, smooth from his shave and slick with his sweat, and as he does, he comes down on her, holding her body to him like a vice. Her nipples scrape agonizingly over his chest and he's not and slick against her as his thrusts become even more intense, if that's even possible.

"Olivia," he moans breathlessly against her skin. He's close. She's never experienced this before, she's never known him like this, but the way his body is shaking, the sounds that are now emanating from his throat, she just knows. And she's close- so fucking close. Every time he buries himself completely inside of her, a jolt of heat fires through her body and she's sure that if he keeps going like this for just another moment she's going to explode. Her toes curl against his thighs and she's grunting and moaning now, too, fingernails digging so far into his skin that they draw blood. " _Fuck,"_ he draws out the word as he buries his face into her neck, every muscle in body bulging as he holds her impossibly tight against him. She's gonna come. Fuck, fuck, she's going to come, she-

It hits her like a freight train. Just as he's about to pull almost all the way back out, her hips slam forward, burying him back inside her, sending a shockwave through her body as she cracks apart at the seams.

And he comes right after her. As she's coming slowly back down, he's moaning unintelligibly into her neck, still gripping her as tightly as he can. As soon as his body stops spasming over her, he collapses between her legs, dick still twitching inside of her as he breathes hard against her neck.

Every bone in her body is completely exhausted. Her arms are lax around his waist, legs collapsed onto the mattress. For a long moment, they don't move, the only sounds their breathing, slowly falling into sync.

Finally, he slowly slips from her body and falls to his side next to her. She doesn't move; not when he wipes himself off with a rumpled, damp towel that's just barely in reach as it hangs out of his hamper, not when he does the same to her slick thighs and not when he pulls the blanket over both of them. She's asleep in seconds, the last thing registering in her mind his deep and even breathing.

* * *

A/N: As always, thanks for reading. Hope you liked, and if you did, please leave a lil comment in the box with your thoughts :)

This is where I plug for my other two most recents, Revival and Balance. Check them out! I have some of a Chapter 2 for Balance written already so that may be updated as well.

And of course, have a great morning/afternoon/evening!

-Stabson


	2. Extinguish

A/N: Thanks for all of the awesome feedback, guys! Here's the next chapter, please enjoy it...

* * *

Something is moving underneath her.

Olivia's eyes open slowly to unfamiliar surroundings. Her head is resting on something hard, but warm, and it takes her a second to remember what's going on and where she is.

 _Elliot's._

She lifts her head slowly, taking in the man that rests under her. His eyes are closed lightly, mouth slightly ajar as he sleeps peacefully. The blanket that he'd pulled over the two of them right before they fell asleep is bunched up just below his waist, leaving his lower abdomen teasingly on display. It would be so easy to reach for that blanket and pull it down, just a little…

 _"Elliot. Just_ ** _fuck_** _me."_

He definitely fucked her. She remembers every second of it as clear as day, but even if she didn't, she has the ache between her legs to remind her. Her legs, which had been wrapped around him, pulling him in deeper with each and every thrust. Her legs, which he'd gripped roughly in his hands, holding them up as he found just the right angle inside of her.

Olivia's body shudders at the memory. _Oh, God._ She wants to do it again. She wants to wake him up with her mouth, press it lightly against his lips or his jaw or down his chest, just as she'd done earlier, when salt pooled on his skin from his exertion.

Or maybe she'll curl up into his warm side and wait for _him_ to wake _her_ up. _What a way that would be to start the day_.

He's still sleeping peacefully beside her, though, and she doesn't have the heart to wake him. The green glow of the alarm clock next to the bed hasn't even struck ten o'clock yet; they didn't get to sleep until well after five. For now, she'll find a way out of this bed, slip into the en suite against the far wall and then head out into the kitchen to scrounge up something from his refrigerator. Her stomach is growling incessantly at her.

It's harder than she originally thought it would be to slide out from underneath Elliot's heavy arm without waking him. She knows what a light sleeper he is, so when she finally manages to get out of the bed and set his arm lightly down on the mattress, she's relieved. He's still snoring softly against the pillow, unmoving.

Olivia snatches the rumpled blue t-shirt he wore earlier this morning off the floor and slips it over head as she pads softly into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

He's managed to unpack all of his bathroom essentials. The medicine cabinet is well stocked with toiletries, pain medicine, cough syrup and even a bottle of sleeping pills, stuffed into the corner. Olivia makes a mental note to ask him about those later. For now, she finds some mouthwash, a face cloth to wipe off her face and some cream to run over her skin, no doubt courtesy of one of Elliot's daughters. She figures they won't mind.

Back in the bedroom, Elliot is still fast asleep. Olivia collects the rest of their clothes, still scattered on the floor, sets his into the laundry basket and folds hers neatly. She's just about to crawl back into bed with him when the shiny, gold piece of metal on the top of his dresser catches her eye. Before she knows what's happening, her feet are carrying her towards it. _New York Police Department. 6316._

 _"You and this job are the only two things I've got anymore. I don't wanna wreck that."_

Olivia blinks and swallows back the sudden pressure in her chest. _No. Don't think about that. Don't start thinking about that._

Her gaze is pulled along the row of photographs that line up along the bureau. Most of them are of him and his kids. There's one of of him in his uniform blues, carrying a very young Maureen on his shoulders. The next is of Maureen and baby Kathleen, then the twins at their confirmation only a short time ago, and finally all four of the kids together, looking rowdy and boisterous, like if they knew the picture was being taken, they didn't care.

And in the corner, just next to wear his badge sits, there's a picture of the two of them. They're both dressed in their uniforms, and his arm is resting on her shoulder. Olivia remembers this occasion well. It'd been about a year and a half or so into their partnership and they'd both been promoted. After all of the business, the shaking hands and the obligatory congratulations from the higher-ups, Elliot had sidled up to her, smiled, and said, _"Congratulations, partner."_

 _Partner._ Even then, they worked well together. They understood each other. Before everything got complicated, when it was just simple touches, lingering gazes and maybe an impure thought every now and then (who could blame her, the man is hot), it was just easy. It was Elliot, Olivia and the job. They were partners.

 _"We can never put each other before the job again. Otherwise… we can't be partners."_

 _How can I expect us to do this?_

The last time they got close, the last time she admitted to herself that her feelings went beyond a partnership and a friendship, everything fell apart.

 _It's different this time._

It is different- it's worse. Tears prickle at Olivia's eyelids. _It's only sex. That's all it is, that's all it has to be. We can go back._

 _Can we?_

She can't lose him like this. They have to go back. They have to pretend this never happened… otherwise, what will happen to their partnership?

 _She's gonna get out of here._

Olivia pulls his t-shirt from her body and reaches for her clothes. She yanks up her jeans, pulls her tank top over her head and zips her sweatshirt, almost forgetting to stuff her bra into her pocket- the bra that he'd broken the clasp of in his haste to get it off of her.

Her biggest mistake is looking back at him. He looks so peaceful, laying on his back, dead to the world. One hand splays out across his chest and the other rests on the mattress, on the spot that she'd been laying in. Slowly, before she can convince herself to stop, Olivia approaches the bed. She can't help but run her fingertips over his abs and then up his chest, allowing herself one more touch- one last touch.

In that moment, she almost breaks. Her desire to crawl back into bed with him nearly wins out, but her legs lock into place and she refuses herself that comfort. No matter how much she wants to admit her feelings for him, she needs to keep him in her life, at least as a partner. The only chance of that happening is if she leaves now, before he wakes up. She can still convince him that they can work together. If he wakes up with her in his arms, that chance will be gone.

They had one night together, she thinks as she walks out into the living room. She had one night to feel his body close to hers, to feel his hands rove over her skin, to feel him drive up into her, as deep as both of their bodies would allow. Now they have to return to reality. Reality is, this can never happen again.

Just as Olivia reaches the door, she hears the creaking of metal hinges and his voice. "Running away?"

She freezes with her hand wrapped around the doorknob. She can feel the heat radiating off of him and knows too well the sight that will greet him if she turns around. She briefly considers opening the door and fleeing without a word, but she's a masochist, so she turns towards him. He's standing in the doorway, pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, arms crossed tightly over his bare chest. Even from across the room, she can see his muscles rigid with his anger and… what else is that? There's something else, an unfamiliar emotion laced across the muscles in his face and she can't quite decipher what it is.

She bites her lip, dropping her gaze from his face. "I have to go."

"Of course you do," Elliot says, an icy bite to his tone.

She takes a deep breath, focusing on anything but the man that stands in the middle of doorway to the bedroom, betrayal coming off of him in waves. She's afraid, terrified that if she looks at him, all's she'll want to do is collapse against his chest and ask him to take her back to bed. Her mind is blank as she tries to think of something to say, but his gaze is draining all the thoughts from her before they can come.

Finally, Olivia closes her eyes, gathers her thoughts, and says, "You know this shouldn't have happened." But it's the hardest thing she's ever had to say.

"You don't know what I'm thinking." His voice has gone tight, and of course she knows. She should have known that he wouldn't want her to leave until they could talk about this. He doesn't want her to get mixed messages, she thinks. He wants to make sure they're both okay with what they are- partners. Friends. She doesn't need him to tell her, she already knows.

"It's okay, El," she says, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "It's fine. We're partners, we can just… forget any of this happened."

"That's all you can ever do, isn't it, Olivia?" he mutters, eyes laser-locked onto hers. They're a wall of ice. "I'm done just _forgetting_ things."

With that, he slips back through the bedroom door and shoves it closed behind him. She's left in the middle of the dimly lit living room of his apartment, silence permeating the small space. Her gut is telling her to get out of here before any more damage is done to their partnership, but her legs are locked in place. It's already too late, she realizes. If she leaves now, there will be no way they'll ever be partners, or even friends, again. She's betrayed him. He's caught her redhanded fleeing without a word. Last night was about the tension, about enjoying each other's bodies, not about love, not for him at least… but he can't have her walk out like this when they have to talk this out. He probably has no idea what she's thinking right now and that's dangerous for them.

Olivia takes another moment to compose herself and take a few deep breaths. Finally, she reenters the bedroom. He's laying on his side with his back to her. She thinks he might be sleeping as she crosses the room slowly, but as soon as she reaches the edge of the bed, he speaks.

"Thought you were leaving."

"Not yet," she says, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"Then what do you want?"

Olivia stares at the muscles of his back for a moment, considering her words as she stares at the muscles of his back, expanding and contracting slightly as he breathes. Finally, she says, "We should talk."

Elliot is silent for a long moment, but finally, he sits up and finally meets her gaze. "Okay. Start talking."

"This morning… it was a mistake," she whispers, the words sending a knife through her gut. God, there's nothing she wants to do more than peel the sweatpants off of him and have a repeat of earlier, but it's not an option. She has nearly lost him too many times. There's no way she can go through that again.

Elliot nods stiffly. He reaches slowly for the shirt that lays rumpled on the floor, the one that she ripped off of her body just a few short minutes ago, and pulls it over his head. It falls down over his chest, hiding his skin from her. She can't help but think that his skin was so recently pressed against hers, hot and slick with sweat. Olivia nearly shutters. She takes a deep breath, banishing those thoughts away. She can't think of his naked body right now.

"Can you just be my friend?" she whispers. "I miss my best friend."

That seems to break Elliot out of his mood. He turns his body towards hers, wraps his arm around her and pulls her against his warm chest. Her chin falls against his shoulder and she lets her eyes slide shut. "Yeah," he murmurs into her ear. "I can be your friend."

Tears form in her eyes as she holds him back. She does miss her best friend. She misses her Elliot, but… after last night, she wants so much more. _She can't have more. It's this or nothing._

"You're my best friend, too, Liv," he rasps, his arm tightening around her.

The tears stream down her cheeks as she grasps him tight. _Best friend._ It's not enough. It's not enough anymore and that is absolutely killing her. She holds onto him as tightly as she can, for as long as she can until he releases her slowly.

"I should go," she mumbles. "I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

Elliot nods. He walks her to the door, she steps through and it closes softly behind her.

Tears flow down her face. She stands at the door, staring at the brass numbers on it as she thinks about what she just lost.

* * *

A/N: Please don't hate me.

Review and I promise things will get better :P

Have a great morning/afternoon/evening!

-Stabson


	3. Smolder

A/N: I'm on a roll. Enjoy.

* * *

The hinges of Elliot's front door creak deafeningly as he slowly closes it. And then there's silence. Complete, absolute, all-encompassing silence- in both his apartment and in his thoughts. His hand is locked on the doorknob, his eyes are locked on his hand.

He breathes. He blinks. His vision blurs and he realizes that tears have formed in the corners of his eyes.

 _"Can you just be my friend? I miss my best friend."_

He lets go of the doorknob. The whites on his knuckles slowly fade. He falls back from the door, makes his way to the couch and sits.

 _"Last night was a mistake."_

 _Last night was a lot of things, but a 'mistake' isn't one of them._ Elliot swallows, falling back against the couch cushions. She's in his mind and he can't get her out- her voice, her eyes, her skin as it presses against his, her legs as they wrap around his waist. He doesn't know what came over him earlier this morning- they've gone from barely speaking to each other one minute, to proclaiming that they'd give each other vital organs, and finally to at each other's throats over a case. In reality, he probably should have guessed that something like this would happen- that all their pent up tension towards each other would boil over. And it did. And they fucked like nothing hurtful had happened, like she hadn't left him twice without a word, like she hadn't thrown the state of his marriage into his face to hurt him. He wants to be angry with her- angry with her for pressing a button that she _knows_ would upset him, angry for not at least leaving him a message those two times she dropped out of his life, and angry with her for just dropping back into it right in the middle of a case.

For a little while, he was. He barely spoke to her, he had no interest in being around her and their time together was silent and strained. But then, for some God forsaken reason that he still can't understand, that woman was able to worm her way back into his heart. The undeniable truth that was made all to clear to him after the Gitano case wormed its way back into his mind; Olivia is far more than just a partner and a friend to him. He feels something in his heart for her- something deep, something real, something dangerously close to love.

 _"We're partners. We can forget it happened."_

He doesn't want to forget. The way her body felt underneath his, how it felt to hear her moan out his name and the tight warmth that surrounded him every time he plunged all the way into her… Elliot nearly groans. All of those feelings and memories are burned into his mind and there's absolutely no doubt, he wants to do it again.

But he'd rather have her in his life as a friend than not at all. He can't handle the thought of her running off again, and if things get too complicated like they have before, that's exactly what she's going to do. So he'll be her friend, because what he really wants with her is unattainable and this is the next best thing. He'll bury these desires so deep that hopefully they'll fade away. They've been friends for going on nine years, he can keep on going like this.

Right?

—-

The next day, they both go into work. They do their paperwork, they stand in front of the whiteboard in the bullpen and work out cases together, they go out into the field and do interviews, and everything is… okay. They don't talk about what happened the day previous, they don't talk about anything besides their cases. It's still not the partnership- the friendship they had before Victor Gitano spun everything on its head, but it's not the strained, mess of a relationship that it had been recently. It's okay.

The next day is the same. So is the day after, and the day after that.

And before he knows it, he's sitting shirtless on a hospital bed. His arm and hands are completely numb and there's a promise of sitting alone in his apartment for weeks looming over him. He'd been dumb enough to let himself get thrown through a glass window by a crazy bastard high on PCP… he's lucky he didn't fall to his death or take a shard of glass to something far more important than his bicep.

"You don't have to stay, you know," he says, eyes falling on the woman that sits beside his bed. "You can get back to work."

"And leave you all alone?" Olivia says, brown eyes boring into his, small smile on her face. Ever since that morning, the morning that they don't talk about, his heart falters when she looks him in the eye. Maybe it's just his imagination, but he's seen something else in her eyes since then. Something… smoldering.

"They're getting the papers for you to sign, anyway, I'll give you a ride home."

Yeah. It's definitely his imagination.

"Okay."

It takes another hour for one of the nurses to finally get the release papers. In the mean time, Olivia goes down to the shop and buys him a shirt to replace the bloody, torn up green dress shirt that he came in with. Just as she returns, he's sitting up with the nurse, signing his name on a packet of paperwork. When he's finished, he takes the shirt, slides gingerly into it and reaches for his shoes.

The ride back to his apartment is relatively silent. The radio plays softly in the background, Elliot sits in the passenger seat, hands on his knees, eyes locked on the road in front of them.

Olivia walks him up to his apartment. Deep down, he's happy; he's not quite ready to be left to his solitude yet. Inside, he toes off his shoes and tries to shrug off his jacket, but his bicep is beginning to burn. He winces.

"Here, I've got it," Olivia says softly. Her thin fingers slide up his arms and she drags the jacket off of his shoulders.

"Thanks," he mumbles. She sets the jacket on the hook next to the door, then turns back towards him. She's inches from his chest, almost close enough to feel her breath on his face. The urge to lean closer is nearly overwhelming, but he's frozen in place.

 _They're partners. Don't ruin this. They're partners._

—-

 _They're partners. Don't ruin this. They're partners._

He's so close to her. His lips are parted, only sightly, if she leans in just a little bit further, he'll feel his breath tickle her skin. If she keeps going, his lips will be on hers. God, that's all she's wanted since their morning together- for his lips to be on hers again. Olivia thought that it was going to be difficult to get over him, she thought that it would take a long while to finally get his naked body out of her head, but now that over a week has passed, she knows the truth. She'll never be able to get him out of her head. She will always want to lay him back down on the bed and take everything he has to offer.

But it's not possible. _It's not possible._

 _She only came up here to help him settle in._

 _Don't do this._

—-

 _He only let her up here so he wouldn't be alone for a moment longer._

 _Don't do this._

His body is moving. Or is it hers? Either way, their lips are growing closer. Her breath smells like peppermint. He needs to taste it on her tongue. He needs to-

Olivia's hand presses against his chest, holding his mouth mere inches from hers. Elliot falls from the trance that he'd been in, the sting of her rejection burning him. _He knows she only wants his friendship. He was stupid enough to lean in._ They stand there in a heavy silence for longer than he cares to admit. Finally, she whispers, "You gonna be okay here by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," he rasps. His hands fall from her hips- when did he even grab them? "Go to work."

And then she's gone.

Elliot takes a deep breath. He swallows the lump in his throat, then heads towards the bedroom. He's tired. He should get some rest.

—-

Elliot awakens to lips on his and legs straddling his waist. His eyes open slowly, and the first things he sees are her beautiful, deep brown orbs and her dark hair, hanging over her shoulder and partly covering her hooded eyelids. His lower half pangs with arousal; God, she's fucking gorgeous.

"Liv?" he whispers against her lips.

"Shhh," she answers, rolling her hips against his. It's then that he realizes they're both naked and a groan falls from his lips. "It's okay. We can do this."

He doesn't need any convincing. He grabs the back of her head and pulls her mouth back down to his, sliding his tongue against her bottom lip and then into her mouth. Peppermint, he thinks. The flavor of peppermint mixed with her own unique taste… it's intoxicating. She moans into his lips, finding his waiting erection with her hand and fisting it for a moment. Elliot's eyes flutter closed as she guides him to her entrance. He's gonna be inside her again… Fuck, he needs to be inside her again.

Just as he's about to pull her hips down onto him, his eyes snap open.

He's laying on his back in his bed, the light of the late afternoon streaming in through his windows. Olivia's not here. He's alone, completely dressed and his near painful hard-on presses against the inside of his sweatpants.

 _Fuck._ Elliot lets out a shuddering breath, sitting up slowly. That fucking dream… it's not the first time he's had it and he knows it won't be the last. It always ends the same, with him so close to filling her up once again… sometimes he's on top. Sometimes, like just now, it's her. Sometimes it's at his place, or hers, or even in the back of the squad car or in one of the interrogation rooms at the precinct. And it's always bordering on literally painful when he wakes up.

 _He needs a cold shower._

The water nearly makes him shiver as it pelts down on him, but it does nothing to help cool him off. He can't stop thinking about her body… hot and soft and just absolutely fucking beautiful… what he wouldn't give to just sink into her even just one more time…

Elliot groans into the spray, and his control gives out. With thoughts of a naked Olivia on top of him still drilled into his head, he reaches for his erection.

It's not the first time he comes into his own hand to only the thought of her. And if they keep going like this, it definitely won't be the last.

—-

Elliot lasts a few days before being cooped up in the apartment starts to get to him. His hands are still numb and clumsy, he still holds his right arm gingerly thanks to the wound there, so he knows he can't quite go back to work yet, but he needs to do _something_.

Olivia texts him once a day or so to check on him. Their conversations are usually short, just a couple of messages back and forth, but it's pretty much the only human interaction that he has besides with his divorce lawyer. He can't wait to throw himself back into his work… dealing with alimony and splitting assets and credit card payments is slowly driving him mad. Divorce sucks… and so does being on the DL.

And then he hears about Olivia's stay in the hospital and the mess that she's trying to sift through. So he pulls on some clothes, grabs his keys and leaves the apartment.

When he approaches her desk, she's sitting with her head in her hand, hair pulled back, bleary eyes staring into her computer screen.

"Thought the joint would be empty."

She looks up at him with that smoldering gaze and smiles. "I thought the doctor said you had to be on house arrest for two weeks."

He smiles back at her, eyes raking over her form. As much as he loves her dress shirts and pants and her makeup meticulously done, he loves seeing her like this even more, in her jeans and simple gray sweatshirt. He'd sit with her all day every day, just like this, if he could. "I can't stay away."

He gives her his questionable advice, the only advice that he can think of to give, and he wishes her well. Olivia tells him to go home, get some rest and enjoy the rest of his time off. So he does. He doesn't enjoy his time off, per se, but he does get a lot rest. Two weeks seem to pass at a snail's pace. Finally, the feeling returns fully to his arm and hands and he's able to go back to work. One of his first cases back is the one against Ryan Bedford. And just as easily as he found himself thrown through the window of the precinct, he finds himself kneeling over the young man, sirens blaring louder as they grow closer.

"Elliot. He's dead."

He didn't mean to kill him. Dear God, he didn't mean to- what did he do wrong? The scene plays out over and over in his head: he chased down the kid. Grabbed him. Blocked a few punches, gave one solid hit and got him on the ground to cuff him. Where did it all go wrong?

He doesn't notice Olivia's hand on his shoulder until it's gone. He talks to Cragen. He talks to the rat, Tucker, who takes his gun and suspends him.

The last time he sees Olivia, she's staring at him with her wide, questioning eyes. Elliot takes back his earlier thought. Being on the DL can't possibly be worse than this.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I know this chapter was partly just filler, but more juiciness is next. I promise.


	4. Ignition

A/N: Finally got around to finishing this. Last chapter left me feeling kind of hollow on this story, like it hadn't gone in the direction I planned or that it wasn't up to par with the others, so my motivation was kind of gone for it. But I did manage to pull myself together and finish it up. Hopefully it's better and you guys enjoy it.

Spoiler: there's more sex. Enjoy it. :P

* * *

"Hey," Olivia greets, holding up the bottle. "Figured you could use some company."

Elliot eyes the bottle for a moment, then steps aside to let her over the threshold.

"How're you holding up?" she asks as he retrieves two glasses from the cabinet. Elliot sits down on the couch next to her and takes the bottle, pouring each of them a glass. How's he holding up? How _should_ he be holding up?

"I'll feel better after a few more of these," he rasps, holding up his empty glass. He reaches for the bottle and she doesn't stop him. He's been thinking of throwing back a few to try to forget the mess his life is becoming since he got home earlier this afternoon.

"You're not going anywhere, El," she murmurs. "We're gonna figure out what happened."

"We already know what happened. I chased him down. I grabbed him. I…" _Where did it all go wrong? How could this have happened?_ "It's over."

Elliot sets the glass down on the coffee table and scrubs his hands over his face. The water in his eyes dampens the skin of his palms. He needs another drink… or a couple more.

"It's not over," Olivia whispers, wrapping her thin fingers around his wrists. They're warm and soft, but insistent, and he finds himself wishing that she'd just slide those fingers over his bare skin- he just wants her to keep touching him. It's been weeks since she's touched him.

 _Gonna lose my job. My freedom. Everything._

"El. Did you hear me?" Olivia sets his hands down on his lap and leans in closer. Her hand slips up his arm slowly, unknowingly granting his wish. He's halfway between relief and despair, balancing precariously, ready to either relax into her or jump to his feet and start pacing. His head hurts with the pressure of it all- can't all of this just be over? He tired. So damn tired of fighting everything. "It's not over. You did _not_ murder anyone."

She's leaning into him, running her hand gently over his shoulder and he knows she's just trying to soothe him, but her body is suddenly too close. He wants nothing more than to lean forward and lose himself in her body. Press his lips against hers, run his hands up her smooth, soft skin, guide her into his bedroom and just forget. He knows she'll be able to banish these dark thoughts from his mind.

Instead, Elliot drops his gaze, gets to his feet and ambles over to the window. It's dark and quiet outside. The road in front of the apartment building is mostly empty. He holds the windowsill with both hands, lock his knees rigid and swallows hard. He can't turn back towards her. He can't go back to her now or he might do something that both of them will regret. He wants her- he needs her- but he can't have her.

"El." He can see her reflection in the glass in front of him as she stands and moves closer, closing the distance that he's put between them. His eyes close and his chin falls to his chest. He banishes the thoughts of her body from his mind, and the much darker ones return. _Gonna end up in prison._ The thought sends ice down his spine. _Fuck._

Olivia's hand on his shoulder cuts through the raging storm in his head. He's caught between punching the wall and collapsing back into Olivia's arms, but he can't do either. Instead, he chews ferociously on his bottom lip and tries to keep his breath even. It's a losing battle.

Olivia's hand squeezes his shoulder once again, sending fire through the material of his t-shirt and into his skin. _Why does she have to keep touching him?_ It's not helping his state of mind- it's really not. His head hurts. He wants to go into the bathroom, grab the bottle of sleeping pills stuffed in the corner next to the pain reliever and vitamins that his doctor insisted he take. Maybe that will allow him to forget.

"It's not over," Olivia whispers, turning him towards her and pulling him close. Elliot immediately resists. No. No, he can't be this close to her. He's going to lose control, he knows it, he's going to do something that they'll both regret and he's going to lose her again. He can't bare to lose her, not now. Not when he's already in danger of that happening. She's the only one that can keep him sane during all of this.

Her touch leaves no room for refusal, though, and he finds his shoulder falling against hers. His breath shakes as it expels from his throat. Slowly, hesitantly, his arm slides around her waist. He's weak. He's so fucking weak for her.

 _It's not over._

"It is over," he whispers. "It's over."

Olivia pulls back from him. Her hands slide slowly up his chest to his cheeks and she holds his face gently, running her thumb lightly over his cheekbone. Her touch is somehow soothing him. _Fuck it._ He doesn't care anymore. He needs her right now, and she's not shrinking away.

"Stop saying that," she whispers. "Trust me. You're not going down for this, El."

His eyes lock onto hers. Before he can stop himself, his hand is running up and down on her back, itching to slip under her shirt and touch. Just one little touch.

But he knows once he touches the way he wants to, he won't be able to stop himself. Not when the memory of her body under his is still so fresh.

"You're not," Olivia whispers gently.

The rational part of his brain tells him to flee, to pull away from her and retreat to the bedroom, but his body has other plans. Before he can stop himself, he leans forward and presses his lips against hers. Just like before, her lips are soft and warm and moist, and the familiar jolt shoots through his body. _God._ He can't pull away. He should… but she's not pulling away either, so he's not questioning it. He might be on limited time. This might be one of his last chances to kiss her and to touch her… if he's going to be indicted for murder, he has to feel her lips on his at least one more time.

Olivia's not pulling back. In fact, she's leaning in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. He doesn't question it. Suddenly, he doesn't care what happens tomorrow, tonight he just needs to feel her skin on his.

The kiss deepens quickly as pangs of arousal shoot down his body. His erection is already painful against the inside of his jeans, begging for relief. Olivia pulls at the bottom of his shirt, but before she can pull it over his head, he grabs the collar and rips it off instead. Her shirt meets the same fate and after weeks of denial and near unbearable discipline, his hands finally have permission to rove over her body once again. She's not stopping him- she's actually encouraging him, leaning closer and running her tongue along his bottom lip, silently requesting permission. He gives it and groans into her mouth as she nips at his bottom lip. He can't take this anymore.

Elliot stands, dragging Olivia up with him. He doesn't carry her like the first time- in fact, as soon as she's on her feet, it's her that's pulling him down the hallway blindly towards the bedroom. Before he knows it, she's tearing at his pants and he's tearing at hers, desperate to get their bare skin together again. Finally, her bare legs are pressed against his again and he groans into her mouth. Oh, God, he needs to be inside her again.

"El," she groans, pulling him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Don't run away again, Liv," he rasps against her cheek. He hates how weak his voice sounds in that moment, how desperate he is for her, but it's the truth, he is desperate. He needs her like he needs air and without her, he can't breathe. If she leaves him again, he won't survive.

"I won't," she answers.

Elliot takes in a deep breath and leans back down to kiss her. His palms slide over the bottoms of her thighs, pulling her closer. "Good."

Her hand slides between them, swiping up his erection and back down, and pulls him to her entrance. He thinks he might die where he lays- he's finally about to be inside her again. Elliot kisses her gently, runs his hands up her sides and back down, and finally begins to push forward.

It's even better this time than he remembers it. As soon as he's buried as deep inside her as he can get, a half moan, half sigh falls from his lips. Her nails dig into the skin on his back as she whispers, "El. Move."

And he does. He pulls almost all the way out and drives back in, drawing a moan from her lips, and he keeps going, thrusting into her hard and deep, but slow, savoring each time his hips connect with hers. Not desperate like the first time- not bordering on rough. This time, he just needs every inch of her- needs to hear her soft whispers of pleasure each time he thrusts, feel her legs clench around her, taste the salt that pools on her skin, watch her beautiful lips fall open between each of those whispers. He keeps his eyes wide open on her, taking in each twitch of the muscles in her face, the way she bites her bottom lip and throws her head back against the pillow, eyes screwed shut. Dear God, this woman is going to be the death of him.

It's not long before Olivia starts pushing on his shoulder. He falls onto his back willingly, she straddles him, and sinks back down onto his lap. Elliot groans, dropping his head back onto the pillow as he hits an even deeper place inside her body.

He raises his head and watches as her hips ground against his. His fingers squeeze the skin of her thighs and he moans again, eyes roving over her taught belly, full breasts, eyes partially covered by her bangs. He almost likes this position more that the previous- here, he can see almost every inch of her body and she is the sexiest woman he's even known.

Finally, her torturous pace and smooth, languid movements are too much for his straining body to handle. Elliot grabs her waist and guides her movement, pulling her down onto him as he drives up into her, orgasm building up quickly. Soft sighs of pleasure are falling from her lips and it's making him moan as well. His pace quickens and his fingers dig deeper into her skin, shit, he's not gonna last much longer...

Finally, he pulls her down one last time, drives as deep as he can get and his release washes over him. He throws his head back against the pillow, lets out a loud moan, and collapses back against the mattress below him, sated and relaxed, the cloud of pleasure remaining firmly over his mind. As soon as he comes back down, he pulls Olivia's mouth to his and she rolls next to him, cuddling up into his side. He wants to stay awake, he wants to savor this moment because he doesn't know if he'll ever get to do this again, but the effects of little sleep and overwhelming stress are taking their toll. It's not long before his heavy eyelids are sliding shut.

—-

In the morning, Elliot is the first to wake. He's feeling more well-rested than he has in a while and he knows he has one woman to thank- the woman that lays naked, sleeping next to him still. He sighs. He should feel happy, relieved, elated that she still sleeps peacefully next to him, but the dark cloud over him has not lifted. God, he just needs this whole thing to be over. He wants to go back to work. To forget about Ryan Bedford and the thought that he is responsible for his death.

Sighing, Elliot sits up and rubs his temples. He's starting to get a headache.

Before he gets the chance to slip on some clothes and head into the bathroom, Olivia stirs next to him and her eyes open slowly. "El?"

"Morning," he murmurs.

Olivia stands up slowly. He watches her collect her clothes and wants to protest as she slips her body back underneath the fabric, but he's still and silent as the reality begins to crush him. _Shit…_ once again, he lost control of his emotions. She's getting dressed, avoiding his gaze, silent. How could he be so stupid?

"Liv," he rasps. She turns towards him slowly. Her bottom lip is sucked between her teeth and there's a look of guilt in her eyes. She's fully clothed and he's still completely naked, sitting on the bed with his hands gripping his knees.

"I should go."

"I thought you weren't running away." The words expel from his chest before he gets the chance to stop them.

"I'm not," she whispers, blinking slowly. "But… I just have to go, El."

"That's what it looks like." _Please…_ she can't leave him. Not now, not again. His world is spinning, he's dizzy, he needs to get up and grab hold of her and never let her go. Convince her to just _stop doing this to him,_ stop questioning them and just let this happen. He's tried too many times to crush them, but the feelings in his chest are too overwhelming and from the look in her eyes, it's the same for her. So why is she being so God damned stubborn?

 _Because their relationship has been so fucked up over the past year she doesn't know what to think._

"I can't lose you again."

He doesn't even recognize his own voice as it pierces the silence in the room. The air around him is growing cold and he should really put on some clothes, but he's frozen still, eyes boring into hers, willing her to drop her hand from the doorknob and close the distance between them.

Olivia lets go of the knob.

 _Come back. Come back. Come back._

But she doesn't.

"I'll talk to you later, El."

By the time the front door closes behind her, he is too numb to feel the pain.

—-

Olivia feels like scum.

She'd just been trying to comfort Elliot- she couldn't stand seeing him so broken, so guilty. She couldn't help the gentle touches her hands had given him, the embrace her body insisted upon, and when things turned hotter and heavier, she was helpless to stop them. He's like a drug with no hope for rehabilitation.

He wasn't in the place to make decisions about relationships. He'd been in a weakened emotional state, she damn near took advantage of that and she finds herself… ashamed.

But it's over now. Earlier in the courthouse, she stood next to Casey and Melinda and watched him pace nervously up and down the hallway, checking his watch, biting his lip, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, muscles tight and tense. And finally, his attorney had stepped out and uttered those words, _"no true bill. You're clear detective."_

She had felt the tension drain from his body.

 _"Thank you."_

 _"Welcome back."_

And he had disappeared, off to where, she's still not sure. Home, maybe. Out for a drink, Lord knows he deserves it.

Olivia is home now, sitting on the couch with a book in her lap, but she's not reading, her mind won't let her.

There's a knock on the door. She gets up slowly, opens it, and the man she's been thinking of greets her at the threshold, still in his maroon shirt, jeans and leather jacket.

"El," she says.

"I have to talk to you," he says. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." Olivia steps aside, allowing to slip past her into the apartment. "What's up?"

Elliot shoves his hands into his pockets and she hears him take a deep breath, but he doesn't turn towards her and his silence beginning to unnerve her.

"Elliot. What's wrong?"

"Been a rough couple of days," he murmurs, finally turning towards her.

Olivia frowns as her gaze rakes over his form. His muscles are slack and she can't help but notice the tiny bags that have formed under his eyes. She opens her mouth, but he's already speaking.

"I've had time to think about what's really important to me." He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, meeting her gaze with his deep blue eyes. He's strangely calm and fear begins to bloom in her chest. Why is he so calm? Why can't he decipher any other emotions in his eyes?

"El…"

"I love our job. And I love our partnership- our friendship. And I nearly lost both of them." He closes the distance between them slowly, and she sees his hand twitch at his side. She thinks he might reach up, try to touch her, and knows that if he did, she wouldn't be able to stop him. But he doesn't.

"You've left me in bed twice," he rasps, the floodgates opening, and he's not so calm anymore. A breath expels from his chest as if he's realizing that fact for the first time, and he scrubs his hand over his face before meeting her eyes once more. "I'm not holding that against you. You're scared. I am, too. But… I can't be your friend anymore."

 _"What?"_

"I can't _just_ be your friend anymore," he amends quickly. "Not when I want so much more. Yeah, I'm a selfish bastard for probably ruining everything. But I need you. I'm sick of playing this game, of making love to you and then having my heart broken in the morning. _I need you._ "

She's frozen in place, attempting to understand the words that have come out of his mouth. They're partners, she thinks. He's still getting a divorce, he's still not in the emotional state to do this. If they do this…

"Liv," he mumbles, reaching for her. His hand envelops her cheek gently and his chest nearly brushes against hers. He's warm and hard, practically inviting her to step closer and allow him to wrap his arms around her. "Say something."

If they do this, maybe the knot in her stomach will finally ease. Maybe this overwhelming need will go away.

She must take too long to answer, because Elliot finally purses his lips, nods, and a familiar emotion crosses his face. She recognizes it- it's the same one that he wore weeks ago, standing in the middle of his apartment, bare-chested after their first night together. Finally she is able to identify that emotion and she feels like a terrible friend for not recognizing it before.

It's pain.

Not the kind that she saw in his eyes as she kneeled over him in the courthouse over a year ago, holding pressure to the gunshot wound in his arm as they waited for an ambulance. Not the kind she sees in him when he leaves an interview with an abused child, the kind of pain that leads to exhaustion and questioning whether either of them can handle one more case. This is the kind of pain she saw on his face pacing outside the Dobbins', when he hadn't seen his children in weeks and he was slowly accepting that his marriage was ending. When she sat next to him in the hospital after the shooting in the courthouse and he told her that his wife started divorce proceedings, he has the papers at home. And the kind she saw as he sat next to her outside on his stoop, admitting that he'd signed the papers in the hope that Kathy would never regret him.

This is the kind that she always wanted to protect him from the most. And this is the kind that she's inflicted upon him numerous times in the past year or so of their partnership.

Elliot drops his hand and draws his body away from hers. "I had to try," he mumbles. "If you want me to leave…"

"No," Olivia finds herself whispering. She can't see this in his eyes anymore- she can't be the cause of it anymore, and she can't continue to bury her own emotions in the back of her head and try to convince herself they aren't there. "El… I want you."

Elliot raises his gaze and an almost disbelieving smile spreads across his face. He cocks an eyebrow, she can almost feel him shoving down his relief in case he misunderstood her, but there's nothing to misunderstand. "You want me, huh?"

She closes the distance between them, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes rake from his wide eyes, down his tense, chiseled jaw and then back up again. When she speaks, her voice comes out in an almost inaudible whisper. "I need you."

She feels his hand wrap around her waist. He pulls her against him and their bodies meet with a soft _thump_. He leans down, dropping his forehead against hers. "I need you, too," he says.

Olivia leans in slowly, but before her lips get a chance to brush against his, his hands on her shoulders stop her. "Promise me you're not gonna leave again," he demands softly.

Fear rises in her chest. _He's her partner. Her best friend. Her everything._ He's not going to hurt her. He's not going to leave her. Staring into his eyes, she knows that.

"I promise," she whispers. And she means it.

He stares into her eyes for a moment, scrutinizing, and his small smile turns into a full out smirk. "If you try, I'm using my cuffs."

Her hand slides across the hairs on the back of his neck and she pulls him towards her. "I'd like to see you try." But she knows that will never happen. She's done running. She's done fighting.

"You know I can," he murmurs just before their lips meet.

She knows. She also knows that she might mess up, and so will he. They're not perfect, they're far from it. They've had their fair share of arguments and disagreements and they'll continue. They'll argue and yell. They might mess up and say something they shouldn't. But there will always be a moment on the stoop where everything will be made right again. She'll make sure of it, and she knows he will, too.

 **END**

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A/N: Please let me know what you think :)


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